The boys belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.Author’s Notes:
This was written for the current rondracodrabble
Ron’s always been the kind to stay close to home: to light, and food, and the comfort of warm bodies and voices mingling. Clubs have never held much appeal; his social life takes place in warm corners of his world.
Feeling his way towards friendship with Draco, he starts to spend long hours away from his flat: they spend hours in cafes and parks instead. It’s out of character, but it’s the least peculiar thing in his life just now so Ron doesn’t question it. He returns to his flat only to sleep.
Then he stops coming home to sleep.~*~
Now it’s even harder to drag himself away. He should be visiting the Burrow: his real home, cosy and lived-in as old shoes. But Draco’s warm and dozy and wearing nothing but bruises in the shape of Ron’s mouth, and he can’t make himself move.
Ron manages not to need his own territory quite so much; he’s carving out a space of his own in Draco’s life, and the place at Draco’s table that’s his and the drawers with his terrible Mad Marvin boxers inside are enough.
Home is where the heart is, so why would he be anywhere else?